


To Have and to Hold

by quartzguts



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Winter Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28555647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartzguts/pseuds/quartzguts
Summary: Noctis decides to take romance advice from a women's mag. It goes about as well as you would expect.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52
Collections: FFXV Book Club 2020 Holiday Exchange





	To Have and to Hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MathClassWarfare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MathClassWarfare/gifts).



> this is for MathClassWarfare! i hope you enjoy~ :)

It starts with an incident Prompto barely remembers.

They’re standing in a convenience store line, their cart full of chips and soda. Prompto’s phone chirps with a text from his boss, asking him to come in early the next day. Noctis moves to look at the shelf of candy and gum next to the register. Small talk from other customers and staff floats about in the air, underlain by the buzz of a nearby minifridge holding sports drinks and cold coffee.

The person in front of them moves up in line. Prompto steps forward to fill the gap. He turns back to ask Noctis some inconsequential thing, and notices him staring intently at the magazine rack. "You okay, buddy?"

Noctis jerks away, looking flustered. "I'm fine."

"What were you looking at?" Prompto asks, leaning in. He gets a glimpse of a smiling blonde woman in a low-cut top before Noctis blocks his vision.

"It’s nothing," he says. "Come on, let's go."

Prompto laughs, but inside, his heart kind of hurts. “So is  _ that  _ what you’re into?”

“I said, let’s go!”

"Okay, okay, we’re going. Chill."

Somewhere in the process of buying their snacks, hurrying through the frost-slicked streets, and stumbling half-frozen into Noctis’s apartment building, the exchange is forgotten. The most that stays with Prompto is the familiar ache in his heart, and the knowledge that no matter what his feelings might be, Noctis would never be interested in a nobody like him. Time has already dulled that pain, so Prompto sleeps easy, sprawled out on the floor of Noctis’s living room.

Noctis doesn’t sleep. Instead, he sneaks out of his apartment, goes back to the 24 hour convenience store, and buys a certain magazine off the shelf. When he gets back home, he opens it up to page 24, and reads—

_ The best foolproof way to get through to your oblivious man! _

\---

The first time Prompto notices Noctis acting weird, they're heading down the stairs into the subway.

Normally they’d hang out at the arcade after school, but it’s way too cold for that; Noctis had suggested they head back to his place and curl up on the couch with hot chocolate and video games instead. Prompto never passes up a chance to hang around his best friend’s fancy apartment,  _ or  _ a chance to spend more time with Noctis, so to the city center they go.

Ignis is busy with his college classes and the distance is too far to walk, so their only real option is the subway. The crowding is immediate and suffocating the second they get inside the station, but at least the body heat generated by dozens of strangers chases away the cold. Prompto weaves through the crowd easily; he’s used to it, since he always takes the subway to work and school during the winter, when the weather isn’t exactly good for biking or walking.

Noctis grabs at his sleeve, holding on tight. Prompto starts to make a joke about lost puppies, but one look at Noctis’s absolutely dour expression stops him in his tracks.

“You okay, Noct?” Prompto asks.

“Fine,” Noctis murmurs. “Just a little crowded.”

“Sorry. I should’ve warned you.”

“Don’t worry about it, ‘s not your fault.”

Noctis inches closer and closer as they walk, so by the time they reach the turnstiles, their sides are pressed together. Prompto breathes in slowly through his mouth, willing down the blush threatening to spread over his cheeks. Noctis is only freaked out because of the crowd. There’s nothing else to this, no matter how much he wishes there was.

They separate for a brief moment to swipe through the turnstiles, and then Noctis is back at his side, with one key difference; the hand that had been tugging on his sleeve has moved down to clutch his wrist.

Prompto clears his throat. “Uh, dude?”

"I've never been in the subway before." Noctis flips their hands around and laces their fingers together. “I don’t want to get lost.”

“R—ight. Well, don't worry. Just follow my lead,” Prompto says. Noctis doesn’t look at him.

He guesses it makes sense. Sort of. Even if Noctis isn’t the kind of guy to show when his feathers are ruffled, he’s always more relaxed around Prompto. He’s also had a chauffeur or Ignis to drive him around his entire life,  _ and  _ he lives in the city center, where it's safe to walk around even after dark. Of  _ course  _ he wouldn't be used to the crowded metro, and would trust his buddy enough to show his uncertainty. What other reason would he have to grab Prompto's hand?

As they walk through the subway, weaving between other kids catching a ride home, sharply dressed businessmen, and couples walking arm in arm, it feels oddly like they’re on a date. Prompto’s heart is beating so fast, he’s worried Noctis might feel it if he adjusts his grip; one brush of his fingers brush against Prompto’s pulse point is all it would take.

They make it to the platform without incident. Prompto expects Noctis to let go of his hand now that there’s no more pathfinding to do, but he keeps their fingers firmly intertwined. He stares at the opposite wall, unbothered by Prompto shuffling around nervously. Does he not care, or not notice? Is this really that weird, or is Prompto overthinking things?

Time moves slowly. Prompto’s anxiety rattled brain convinces him all the mindless chatter around them has to be gossip, people glancing over at the two boys in winter school uniforms holding hands and guessing at their relationship. He wonders if they look like they’re dating. Wouldn’t it be bad for Noctis if someone recognizes him? The last thing Prompto wants to do is cause him trouble.

On the other hand, he feels like it shouldn’t matter. He knows first-hand how shallow people can be, how off-base the conclusions they come to are. He was a chubby kid, a loner who spent all day looking at pictures of animals he took on his cheap camera. He has thick skin when it comes to what other people think of him. But in this moment, with Noctis beside him, it feels different. More consequential, as if strangers thinking they’re a couple is one step before actual dating.

The train rushes into the platform, bringing with it a gust of cool air, and the moment breaks. It’s only once they’re in the car, clinging to the handrails, that Noctis finally lets go.

Prompto sighs in relief, but if he’s being honest, he’s a little disappointed.

\---

The second time it happens, it’s snowing.

Snow is rare in Insomnia. Light snow and rain don’t make it through the Wall; it pools over the city, obscuring the sky in a delicate mist that lingers for days. When snow  _ is  _ heavy enough to make it through, it comes down in buckets, covering every flat surface in a matter of minutes. It’s impossible to go anywhere with how fast it piles up, so when Prompto wakes up to find his front door blocked by several feet of snow, he doesn’t have to check the TV to know school is cancelled.

He makes breakfast and lazes around his house for the next hour, enjoying the excuse to take a break from his daily exercise routine. He’s on his second cup of hot chocolate when he heads back to his room and notices his phone, still charging on the nightstand where he left it, is lighting up with an influx of messages. Checking it nearly gives him a heart attack.

_ 8:13am noct: hey can i come over to ur place today _

_ 8:27am noct: too late im on my way _

_ 8:49am noct: lol its kinda hard to walk in the snow _

_ 8:51am noct: where do u live again _

Prompto’s heart leaps into his throat. He fumbles with his phone, frantically dialing Noctis’s number.

_ “Hey, dude, why didn’t you text me back?” _

“Are you nuts?” Prompto asks, throwing on a coat and boots. “You’re gonna freeze to death!”

_ “Don’t worry, I made a fire flask to keep me warm. Anyway, where do you live?” _

“Come on, man! How many times have you been to my house again?” Prompto stumbles in his rush to get to the front door. “Just tell me where you are, I’ll come get you.”

Ten minutes later, he finds Noctis wandering around a few blocks away. Prompto is brought to a halt by how striking he looks—black hair and black clothes dusted with sparking white snow. A small red flask flickers in his hands. The cold in Prompto’s fingers and toes melt away. His cheeks flush. He has to remind himself to start breathing again.

Prompto plasters a huge, stupid grin on his face, and shouts, “hey, nerd!”

Noctis startles. “Who are you calling a nerd?” he yells, right before he slips and falls face first into the snow.

Prompto chokes on a laugh. He steps forward, careful to keep from falling, and hauls Noctis up by his arm. “I don’t know why Iggy ever lets you outside. You’re a walking disaster.”

“Oh, shut it,” Noctis huffs. A bit of snow is stuck to his nose, turning it powdery white.

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be a Noct-cicle right now.”

“You look a  _ lot _ colder than me, you know.” Noctis shoves the flask at Prompto; the little ball of flame instantly warms up his palms. He smiles down at it, this tiny manifestation of Noctis’s royal power. There’s something so cute about seeing the famed magic of the royal family used for such a silly purpose.

Prompto is distracted staring at the flame, and he jolts when Noctis grabs his hands. At first he thinks he’s going to take the bottle back, but then Noctis pries one of his hands off the glass and slots their gloved fingers together.

“It’s hard to walk through the snow,” Noctis says.

“Right,” Prompto replies, his heart speeding up again. “No worries. I get it.”

It was a struggle to march through the snow alone, and it's even harder now that he's dragging Noctis along with him. The way their hands are tightly laced together makes Prompto feel light on his feet at the same time extra weight pulls him down. He holds tight around the fire flask with his other hand, trying to balance himself by putting out his arm. He's about to whine and ask why Noctis couldn't have just video called him if he wanted to hang out when he hears a yelp and feels a sharp tug on his arm.

The world flips upside down. The flask flies out of his hand and breaks over the snow, fizzing and popping against the cold slush. A pile of snow falls from a tree overhead and melts on Prompto's back, but he can't focus on any of it.

In front of him is this: Noctis’s face, stuck in an expression between surprise and embarrassment, mouth half-open, cheeks flushed, blue eyes open wide. His hair is tousled back over his forehead, giving Prompto an unobstructed view of those deep ocean-colored irises. When Noctis’s chest heaves, his breath ghosts over Prompto’s face.

It’s really unfair that Noctis is so perfect, yet also completely unobtainable.

He draws back on his knees with what he hopes is a perfectly normal smile on his face. “Sorry, Noct. You okay?”

Noctis blinks up at him for a moment, dazed. “What—? Oh, yeah. I’m… I’m fine.” He reaches out his hand, and it takes Prompto an embarrassingly long time to realize he’s asking for help getting up.

Despite the disaster that just occurred—Prompto is 90% sure causing the prince to fall into a snow drift is illegal—Noctis doesn’t let go of him. They manage to make it back to Prompto’s place all in one piece, where he takes Noctis’s wet coat and pushes him into the bathroom, with instructions to warm up with a hot bath.

Then Prompto sits at the kitchen table, staring at his gloved hand and imagining Noctis’s fingers wrapped around his.

\---

The third time, they’re back at school.

It’s still freezing, but the previous week’s snowstorm is over. Prompto arrives at the school parking lot around the same time Ignis’s car stops to let Noctis out at the curb. He waves to Ignis through the window; he’s not exactly at ease with the scarier of Noctis’s two retainers, but he wants to be. Ignis is a cool guy, and he’s important to Noctis.

Besides that, Prompto  _ really _ wants to ask the guy for cooking tips. He could use the help, since he makes all his own meals.

Noctis meets him at the school entrance. “You look like crap.”

“Come on, that’s mean of you,” Prompto whines, though he knows it’s true. Between spending the last several nights playing King’s Knight with Noctis and Gladio and losing sleep over the Snow Drift Incident, he isn’t exactly well rested. He knows there are dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is messier than usual. He doesn’t usually sweat that kind of stuff; it’s more the health angle over the lack of sleep that worries him.

But, well. When Noctis points it out, it kind of stings.

“That’s not what I—nevermind,” Noctis mumbles. “Hey, come here for a sec.”

Before he can protest, Noctis grabs his hand and tugs him further into the school courtyard. The sensation of their palms pressed together is familiar at this point, but no less thrilling. This new streak of Noctis-induced self-consciousness makes Prompto glad the courtyard is deserted, with everyone hurrying to get inside and out of cold as quickly as possible. Dead grass crunches under their shoes, and the trees that usually provide shade have been reduced to bare branches. Noctis stops next to one of the ice-slicked benches and dumps his backpack onto it.

“Your homework is gonna get wet,” Prompto says.

“Yeah, yeah.” Noctis pulls a comb out of the void of loose papers and candy wrappers that is his backpack. “Stand still.”

For the second time in recent memory, Noctis’s face is very, very close to Prompto’s. This time, his expression is laser focused, and his eyes are aimed up at Prompto’s hair, not his face. Prompto flexes his hands, staving off the impulse to cup Noctis’s cheeks and pull him into a kiss, as the prince of Lucis fixes his hair.

“Done.” Noctis pulls back. “You look good—hot, even.”

Prompto might have died at that. Just a little bit. “Woah. That’s big, coming from the future Prom King.”

Noctis rolls his eyes. He picks up his backpack. “I’m not gonna be Prom King, you nerd.”

“I’d vote for you.” The bell signalling the start of first period rings, and they head for the front doors.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I dare!”

“Then I’ll vote for you.”

“That’s just wasting your vote. We both know I’m not gonna win.” The halls are still pretty crowded, even with school now in session. The usual eyes and whispers that follow Noctis around are slightly more intimidating today. Prompto can’t help but wonder if any of them saw the two of them outside through the windows, if they’re gossiping.

Which, they probably aren’t. It’s just Prompto overthinking things. Again.

“Why not? You’re funny, cute… the girls like you,” Noctis says.

“They like you more!” Funny. Cute.  _ Hot.  _ So, so unfair. “By the way, where do you wanna eat lunch today?”

“Wow, smooth way to change the subject.” Noctis rolls his eyes. “The history club room should be pretty empty. Ignis made extra for you, by the way.”

“Wait, really? I thought he didn’t like me!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Noctis slides open the door to their classroom. “We all like you.”

Prompto thinks he’s starting to get used to this elevated heart rate. Maybe this is just how it’s gonna be from now on; Noctis says something, or does something, or just exists in general, and Prompto’s heart works overtime. He doesn’t think it’s good for him, but hey, being the prince’s best friend has gotta come with killer health insurance.

\---

"Third time's a charm." Prompto has heard that phrase many times in his life. It's only now he understands it's a big, fat lie. The phrase should be  _ fourth  _ time's a charm, because that's how many times it takes for him to get a hint.

They're just getting back to Noctis's apartment after spending several hours at the arcade. The cold front has finally broken, but they still have a long way to go before spring starts, and even longer for summer. Prompto stops at the door to readjust his backpack, and Noctis grabs his hand and tugs him the rest of the way in.

Prompto's gloves are in the wash, so his hands are cold, he's sure of it, but Noctis doesn't seem to mind. The hand-holding is somewhere closer to normal than weird by now, but it still has butterflies unfurling in Prompto's stomach. He knows he’s got to do something about it, but he’s not sure what. The best course of action would be to get over this silly little crush, but he doesn’t think he can when Noctis is so close. Bringing it up risks exposing just how much Prompto is otherthinking things, and more importantly,  _ why _ he’s overthinking.

Though… maybe that’s not a bad thing. Communication is good, right? Noctis might think he’s weird for a while, but Prompto is pretty sure he’s not the type to ghost someone for the offense of confessing. If he comes clean, he can ask Noctis to keep his distance for a while without feeling guilty. Then everything can go back to normal.

Prompto would rather be Noctis's friend than nothing, and he can't be Noctis's friend if he keeps feeling like this.

"Hey, Noct?" Noctis doesn't immediately reply. He keeps their hands fastened tight, even when Prompto tries to pull away. "I think we've gotta talk."

"About what?" Noctis pulls him into the living room without stopping to turn on the light. The faint glow of the setting sun casts a golden gleam over the room. They drop their backpacks next to the kitchen table as they walk by.

"About this." Prompto squeezes Noctis's hand. That gets his attention; he turns to look at Prompto sharply. That narrowed expression, focused and unreadable, usually makes Prompto swoon. Right now, it makes him want to cry, but only a little bit.

"You got something to say?" Noctis asks, sounding weirdly hopeful. Prompto… doesn't know how to react to that, so he decides to ignore it and hope for the best.

"Look, Noct, I get that you're comfortable with me. That's great! I'm happy. But could you please stop it with the hand holding? It's a little bit too much for me."

Noctis's face falls. "What?"

"It's… look, I  _ like  _ you, okay?" Prompto bites his lip. He watches Noctis's brows furrow and his mouth press shut. Prompto can't force himself to be mad that he looks so cute even when he's about to reject him. It’s not Noctis’s fault, after all. "I know you don't feel the same—it's cool, really. But it's too much for me to hold hands with you when I know nothing's gonna come of it."

Noctis blinks once, twice, then blushes and says, "I'm gonna sue that magazine company."

"Huh?"

Noctis draws his hands back, then stomps off to his bedroom. Prompto stands perfectly still in the living room, mortified.

He's about to cut his losses and make a run for it when Noctis returns with a crumpled up magazine. He shoves it at Prompto; it's one of those women's mags, with a blonde celebrity on the cover and no less than five different headlines stretching across her in various fonts.

Prompto looks at Noctis helplessly.

"Page 28," Noctis says.

Prompto turns to page 28, and… it’s…

He’s gotta be kidding.

“You’ve gotta be kidding. There’s no way this would ever work.”

On page 28, in large, bold font, the article title declares the foolproof way to get a guy to notice you like him is to take his hand and never let go. Just hold his hand. All the time. Prompto has read bad romance advice before, but this is on a whole new level.

“You’re the one who’s too oblivious!” Noctis says.

“Woah, are you blaming me for this?” Prompto points at Noctis accusingly. “You could’ve just told me how you feel!”

“Oh, yeah? And what about you? I’ve been over here dropping hints like crazy!”

Prompto has to laugh. The whiplash from this conversation is  _ really  _ getting to him. “What ‘hints’? Seriously, dude, tell me. What hints have you been dropping?”

Noctis sputters. “I—just— _ you know!” _

That’s when it sinks in: the two of them, bathed in the light of the setting sun, still wearing their coats even though the heater’s running. The magazine in Prompto’s hand. The blush spread over Noctis’s cheeks and the tips of his ears.

The tingling in his palm.

“Dude.” Prompto grins. “You like me.”

Noctis huffs and crosses his arms. “Yeah, so?”

“I like you.”

“Oh. Yeah, you… you said that, didn’t you.”

“Sure did.”

Noctis shrugs, looks away. This vulnerability is new, or maybe it’s not. Maybe Noctis  _ has  _ been dropping hints, in his own way, and Prompto didn’t notice. That’s no one’s fault, though. They’ve just got different love languages. Prompto doesn’t know about Noctis, but he’s definitely willing to learn a new one.

“Wanna order some pizza?” Noctis asks.

“Not the most romantic first date in the world, but I’ll take it,” Prompto teases. When Noctis starts to head for his backpack to get his phone, he clears his throat. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Noctis’s eyes fall to his outstretched hand. “Oh, come on. You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

They’re still holding hands when the delivery guy arrives at the door, and Prompto doesn’t give a damn what he thinks. Not one bit.


End file.
